


Day terrors

by scredgirl



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: F/F, Fluff, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scredgirl/pseuds/scredgirl
Summary: It's not easy for anyone getting a good day's sleep in the castle, with vampire artifacts and battle plans on the mind.
Relationships: Morana/Striga (Castlevania), Morana/Striga/Carmilla (Castlevania), sort of - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	Day terrors

**Author's Note:**

> Cheyenne's prompt brought to extra fluffy life by yours truly

The canopy hangs heavy with blue velvet, a peaceful shelter after another busy night of planification and deliberation. One curtain remains fastened to the bedpost with a silken cord, allowing light from the bedside lamp to spill onto the book that sits in the vampire’s lap.  _ Just a few pages before bed _ , she had told herself, but the book had turned out to be a harder read than expected and Morana, not one to back down from a few complicated schematics, had entered a mental wrestling exercise that was lasting late into the morning.

Hands, strong, deft and long awaited, pull open the curtains on the other side, but Morana does not stir. A weight on the bed next to her that she barely feels, and then the book is being tilted in her lap, breaking her focus. She turns her head towards the intruder with a forbidding tut.

“Bloodsmithing,” the woman reads from the cover she holds with one hand, craning her neck to see. “Volume III - binding and artifacts.”

“I’m reading about the limitations of loyalty rings,” Morana states, tugging the cover out of Striga’s hand and replacing the book neatly in her lap.

A raspy laugh. “You don’t trust the little human pet?”

“Not only that. I want to know precisely how good these things that Lenore had forged for us are.” She eyes the black and red band sitting on her bedside. “I am not wearing it until I know exactly how it works.”

“Neither am I. A good thing I have you to tell me the abridged version once you have all the information in hand.” Striga settles into the bed, leaning her head on Morana’s shoulder. “Lenore has been spending a lot of time overseeing the construction of his doghouse,” she muses, frowning. “She has the human’s obedience. I don’t understand why she wants him to be comfortable so much.”

“She’s fond of him,” Morana responds, one hand absentmindedly toying with the strands of Striga’s wild black hair that wrap over her shoulder. “He brings her joy.”

“I don’t like it.”

“We’re all allowed our little projects. Though I do wish she didn’t flaunt him so.”

They both grimace.

“Remember when she told us about the time he…”

“Ugh, please do not remind me. That was not suitable for breakfast.”

“And I thought Carmilla had no boundaries.”

They share a snicker, and then the canopy falls into comfortable silence. Striga stretches and sighs, curled up in Morana's side as snugly as she can fit.

In the stillness of the room, the echoes of a voice reach them, filtered through walls and fabric.

“Was that a moan?” Striga groans drowsily.

“More like a scream. And she has the nerve to tell us to keep it down when we’re only talking.”

“You’d think the walls of an ancient vampire fortress deep in the Hochschwab mountains would not be so paper-thin. You can’t get any privacy in here.”

Morana claps her book shut as another panting scream is heard, turns off the lamp and closes the curtain. She scoots closer to Striga to kiss her lips.

“It’s time for sleep anyway.”

Covers drawn over their resting forms, wrapped into one another, and curtains comfortably muffling all outside sounds, they go to sleep for the day.

Their blissful peace lasts a few minutes before a familiar sequence is knocked on the door, which almost simultaneously opens. A white form, ghostly looking in its nightgown, tears open the curtains and unceremoniously sits on the edge of the bed.

“Carmilla? What the fuck.” Striga props herself up on an elbow, squinting at the light Carmilla turns back on.

“You know how my best ideas always come in the morning?” The invader swivels to face the two women in the bed, unperturbed by their curses and protests. “I was thinking about our potential army of night creatures. Now, I know Morana arranged for us to buy all those mercenaries…”

“God, there she goes.” Striga buries her face in the pillows.

“... But it would be a shame to not use the forgemaster, now that he’s bound to us. We just need dead bodies. Lucky for us, that’s where the war in Lower Austria comes in…”

“We discussed this earlier at dinner,” Morana complains.

“You gave zero fucks about it.” Striga chimes in, raising her head from the pillow.

“Well, I want to discuss it now.”

“She’s not going away, is she?” Morana bemoans, sitting up reluctantly.

“I’m not.” Carmilla climbs over Morana, sitting at the foot of the bed between the two vampires. “Blame the sorry bastards who flaked on me today. It’s their fault I’m in bed by myself with nothing to do except come up with genius plans.”

“We’re not responsible for your bed warmers not showing up, Carmilla-” Morana’s eyes narrow, all trace of sleep vanishing instantly. “Wait, what was all that screaming about then?”

Carmilla laughs it off. “What screaming?” - but her eyes cloud over for a moment and Morana knows exactly what this is about.  _ A nightmare, then.  _ Thankfully infrequent, as they left Carmilla shaken for the rest of the day. Morana had seen her wake up from them in a state, angry and agitated and unable to sleep afterwards.

The strategist sighs, her expression softened. She waves an inviting hand at what little space there is between her and Striga. “Fine. Stay and tell us about your scheme.” 

“Don’t enable her. This is my bed too,” comes Striga's exasperated voice.

Morana shushes as Carmilla gladly flops down in the middle of the bed. Striga sighs heavily but she gives way for the three of them to settle comfortably beneath the covers. Morana slings an arm around Carmilla’s shoulders and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. Carmilla does not protest.

“You can talk about your scheme, but I'm going to sleep,” Striga warns, patting Carmilla’s thigh before she turns away. She could swear the crafty bitch is sporting the smuggest smile she’s ever seen on her face, but she can’t fault her for it. She doesn’t like sleeping alone either - not anymore. It’s nice to have company in the daytime. 

She dozes off to melodic voices painting plans of war and blood spilt.


End file.
